


no hold to hold on you

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [50]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: @ MCU: can we let Peter rest FOR FIVE MINUTES, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Prompt Fic, Protective Michelle Jones, Secret Crush, Tumblr Prompt, sir that's my emotional support Aunt May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Struggling with his grief after Tony's funeral, Peter ends up at MJ's door.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368034
Comments: 32
Kudos: 89
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	no hold to hold on you

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following lyrics from "Can I Sleep in Your Arms?" by Willie Nelson:
> 
> _Left me lonely and cold and so weak/And I need someone’s arms to hold me/’Til I’m strong enough to get back on my feet_

“Peter,” May says gently, pushing his hair back from his face with a warm, comforting hand, “what can I do?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s ok.”

“I know this is hard,” his aunt presses. “Tony meant a lot to you.” Peter sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“Don’t get me started again,” he says with a wet laugh.

“Alright. I can put something stupid on TV and pretend not to see you crying at the other end of the couch,” she offers. “How would that be? You wanna get your PJs on?”

He’s touched by the way she’s babying him. Sometimes, it gets on his nerves, but under the circumstances, the overabundance of tenderness brings him back to the early days after Ben’s death and how careful he and May were with each other. Although they don’t share this loss in the same way they shared that one, it doesn’t negate her instinct to shelter him from the world.

“Nah,” Peter says with a deep sigh. “I don’t think I have the energy to get changed again.”

When they got home from the funeral, he took off his suit as quickly as possible, threw on a t-shirt and sweats. Everything soft and formless―the very opposite of the feel of the other kind of suit in his closet. The ones Mr. Stark made him. The one in particular that he was wearing when his friend and mentor died right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute and May rubs his back firmly, reminding him of her presence. No new tears escape. His eyes feel hot, his cheeks dry from all the tears he’s swiped away today.

“You wanna go spend some time with Ned? Maybe sleep over? I swear I won’t take it personally that you don’t feel like hanging out,” his aunt says with a sympathetic half-smile.

“Ned? Yeah, maybe.”

Peter hasn’t even thought of Ned today, which is weird. Under completely different circumstances, Ned would’ve loved being by his side, meeting all those Avengers. Peter could’ve downplayed it as no big deal and watched his best friend’s eyes light up, and Mr. Stark would’ve acted all― His shoulders droop. So maybe it’s good he doesn’t have any memories of Ned and Tony side by side. Ned’s a separate part of his life that Peter can retreat into right now.

“Yeah? You let me know if you don’t stay overnight, or if you want me to come get you, or―”

“May,” he reminds her quietly, “I can get home by myself.”

“I know that. I know. I know you can.” Her mouth turns down and her nostrils twitch, but she’s as good at holding back tears as he is. Probably better. She runs a hand across his shoulders, then lets him stand.

Peter collects his phone and keys, slips his shoes on, flips his hood up. May’s waiting at the door of their apartment.

“Don’t do anything tonight,” she says. He frowns. She looks down, almost guiltily. “I know you feel compelled to help people, but if you could just… just get from point A to point B without getting mixed up in anything…”

“Ok,” he promises, because she doesn’t need that worry right now. He can make sure he doesn’t end up under a truck or in front of a knife or inside a bank that’s being robbed for one night.

“Thank you.”

“Love you, May,” Peter says, hugging her almost as hard as she hugs him.

“Alright. Say hi to Ned for him.”

He turns so she doesn’t have to hold that smile on her face too long for his benefit.

Outside, the world is dark and empty, so he should stick to well-worn paths. But he doesn’t end up at Ned’s. He ends up at MJ’s. She had a few members of the decathlon team over for an extra prep session before a competition one evening, then another time, Ned and Peter did a movie night with her. It was mostly Ned’s doing. He said they should get to know their new captain better and Peter felt nervous and awkward about it, but it turned out fine.

The ease with which he can pull her address up in his mind doesn’t explain his unconscious decision to arrive at her building. Since Peter’s here, he sends her a text. She lets him in.

“Quiet,” he says when he’s come up and she’s locking them inside her apartment.

“My parents are in Philly, visiting my aunt.”

Unlike normal, MJ doesn’t bombard him with questions or stare him down with suspicious eyes. Thank god. He’s tired. Immortally tired. Something old and soft plays from the other room. He could hear the song’s lyrics if he focused, but he tunes into the beat of MJ’s heart instead. Somehow, it’s even more soothing.

“Come and sit down,” she says.

Peter follows her to the couch, far less familiar than the one he sat on with May. Still, he associates the darkness of the room and the comfort of his seat with being taken care of. He wrings his hands.

“Sorry for just showing up,” he tells the carpet between his socked feet.

“It’s ok.”

“We buried Tony today.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know he’s crying until MJ’s arms wrap around his shoulders in a tentative hug. Shameless, Peter twists and presses his face against her neck, weeping into her skin. She hugs him tighter, bringing one leg up onto the couch to make it easier to hold him close. His hands scrabble at the back of her long-sleeved shirt. Over ugly moans, he catches the sound of her sweetly shushing him as her fingers rake through the back of his hair and pet his neck.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok. It’ll be ok, Peter. Today’s the hardest day. It’s alright. Get it out. Or you don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, that’s good. No, don’t be embarrassed. It’s ok, you’re alright. I’ve got you. I know. It’s ok that it’s hard. Are you thinking about your uncle? Of course I know about that. _Shhh_. It’s ok. It just means you cared about Stark. I bet you were really important to him too. Everything’s gonna be alright. It’s over now. All the bad stuff is behind you, Peter. You’re ok. I’m here.”

Her words go on and on. Peter doesn’t know for how long, except that it’s almost as long as he cries. MJ holds him together so he can’t break apart while he feels all of this. Hiccupping with stress and sadness and embarrassment, he tries to apologize, but she just shushes him some more. When the tears finally slow, he looks at her. Quickly, she’s up from the couch, getting him a drink and dragging a blanket over his shoulders on her way back.

“You’ll give yourself a headache,” she says, shrugging off the plain kindness of a glass of water. “Crying always gives me a headache.”

“What do you cry about?”

 _What a dumb way to make conversation_ , Peter thinks. Morbid and too personal. Sipping his water, he’s confused to see his question make MJ blush and dart her eyes away from his.

“Dumb stuff.”

“I don’t think anything you could think about would be dumb.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she says, looking surprised. “It’s just, you know, crying over things I don’t have.”

“I hope you get those things.”

She gives him a funny look, but it’s gone by the time he takes a tissue from the box she’s placed at his feet and blows his nose.

“I think about him everywhere,” Peter groans in frustration. See how sheer annoyance works at keeping the misery down. MJ hums like she’s agreeing with him, then stops abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I can’t believe I just came over and―”

“It’s seriously ok. I mean it. Let’s not do that asinine adult thing where social etiquette demands that we go back and forth without actually asserting our needs,” she rants, pulling her knee up to her chest and gripping it with both hands. “Be here, be sad, and stop worrying about it.”

It’s amazing to him how much softer MJ is one-on-one. Still assertive to the point of occasional curtness, but unexpectedly attentive. He hopes she doesn’t cry often. He hopes consoling others is something she’s naturally good at, not because she’s had a lot of practice. Nobody deserves a life full of grief.

Peter splashes water in his face in the bathroom and means to tell her he’s gonna go. He’s worn himself out with crying. Instead, he sits back down on the couch. She was looking up at him. He doesn’t want to go yet. May thinks he’ll be at Ned’s all night. Like she knows his aunt’s plan from earlier, MJ puts the TV on in the background. What she doesn’t do is flee to the opposite end of the couch. She stays near him, looking straight ahead to give him privacy because she is apparently a deeply decent person.

He follows up the mystery of how he ended up here rather than at Ned’s with the mystery of how he and MJ are sitting apart one minute and have their arms touching the next. They go from that to her hand slipping into his. (Her heart speeds up―wait, does she care about him as more than a friend?)

From that to his head dropping sideways onto her shoulder.

To MJ’s cheek against the top of his head.

To sleep.


End file.
